By the Sea
by Londonmage
Summary: Faramir remembers the sea and the mother he misses... Rated PG for thematic elements and just to be on the safe side. EDITED & REPOSTED


Boromir had been talking the entire way to Dol Amroth--at least it seemed to have been the entire journey to Faramir's tired ears--past the Anduin, through Lossarnach, past Ethring, all the way to Belfalas.

 The ocean: It was apparently Boromir's new favorite subject and though his mother laughed tenderly at his brother's claims and his father smiled and amusedly rolled his eyes a bit, Faramir could see neither the humour nor the cause for good natured behavior after so much talking. Besides, Faramir couldn't believe that something could be even half as big as what Boromir claimed the sea to be.   
  
Boromir had decided somewhere along the line that it was his job to protect Faramir from the fright the sea would supposedly induce on one's first viewing. "You'll be simply terrified!" he said with a grin, enticing a small laugh from his father and a knowing look from his mother. "But you'll soon get over your fears, Faramir," he added quickly, glancing at his mother. "The ocean is wonderful."  
  
Faramir was glad when the ride was over, and the house had been entered, and he had put some distance between Boromir's mouth and his ears. He loved his brother but sometimes he wondered if he ever realized the sheer volume of the words passing over his lips.  
  
Relatives were embraced, bags unpacked, clothes changed, dinner eaten, baths drawn. Boromir whined about this and for once, Faramir didn't so much mind his talking. The dread of bathing was mutual.   
  
"Boromir," Finduilas scolded gently, "Now you love playing in the waves and getting wet. How is this any different from splashing in the sea or swimming in the Anduin?"  
  
"I'd like the answer to that question myself," Denethor remarked.  
  
Seeing his statement as challenge, Boromir turned his pout on him. "No soap," he said indignantly.  
  
Faramir laughed and Denethor and Finduilas could hardly argue.  
  
The baths were soon finished, nightclothes were donned, lullabies sung, children tucked in, and kisses and hugs given all around. Faramir was thankful Boromir didn't talk in his sleep.  
  
Morning came and Boromir was the one who brought it to Faramir. Immediately he knew something special was going to happen. Boromir only woke without 'incentive', as his father called it, on the most exciting days. Usually it took a miracle to get his brother out of bed. Usually he lacked 'morning initiative', as his father said.  
  
"Denethor," Finduilas yawned, standing in the doorway of the guest room, "Since he is obviously capable of rising so early and easily, and seems to enjoy it when he does, why is so hard to merely get his eyes open some days?"  
  
Denethor leaned in and kissed his wife's cheek softly.  
  
"Perhaps it has something to do with soap," he teased.  
  
Finduilas laughed and kissed him back.  
  
After breakfast was eaten, Boromir decided it was time to visit the sea. Elphir and Erchirion agreed whole-heartedly and Imrahil gave his consent on the matter as well. Finduilas and Denethor followed behind the quartet of grinning faces and racing pairs of feet, triumphantly speeding across the vibrant summer grass. It was a perfect morning and Faramir followed his brother eagerly, greatly desiring to see this thing which Boromir had spoken of so incessantly.  
  
And quite suddenly, they rounded a bend and there was the sea, splayed out before them, rolling in great, booming waves that pounded the surface with fervor and slid out to touch the shore. Faramir slowed as they made their way onto the sand and then stopped completely. Elphir and Erchirion took advantage of this and ran ahead of Boromir, faster and faster toward the crashing waves. Boromir pulled at his hand, willing him on so he could win the impromptu race to the shoreline. Faramir, though, had his feet planted solidly in the ground. His brother soon gave up tugging at his hand in impatience, leaving to splash gleefully in the surf.   
  
The trio laughed wildly, flinging water this way and that, carefree in each movement. But Faramir felt terribly small in the enormity of the water before him. He'd never seen anything like it. Boromir had been right. His brother seemed unharmed by the huge waves that frolicked around him and looked utterly thrilled; but, in those first few moments of terrifying, glorious sight, Faramir felt frozen, overwhelmed, and couldn't envision himself ever moving so freely in such a vast and unknown territory. Baths certainly didn't come close to this. Even the Anduin wasn't so large.  
  
Wonder and fear coursed through him, mixing together in his veins, making him flinch at a sudden hand on his shoulder. His little head turned round quickly to see that his mother was crouching down just behind him and his father stood just behind her, shielding the bright sun from his eyes with one hand, looking down tenderly upon them both.  
  
"Faramir," she said softly, and then paused for a moment. Her pleasant smile was evident in her voice as she continued. "It's big, isn't it?" she breathed in wonder.  
  
Faramir nodded vigorously, drawing affectionate smiles from both parents that went unnoticed by him, for his eyes were still trained before him. Silence stretched and Finduilas followed her son's gaze and smiled as her eyes came to rest on Boromir, still dancing around wildly in the surf, splashing Elphir zealously who in turn was wrestling Erchirion, between attempts to splash Boromir back.  
  
As a particularly large wave crashed at their waists, Elphir took the opportunity for revenge and loosed his grip on his brother and turned to Boromir, catching him by surprise and dunking him beneath the waves. Faramir gasped and Denethor smirked, a half-smile playing on his lips. Finduilas laughed lightly and son and husband soon joined her as Boromir came up sputtering, hair clinging to his face, flinging water everywhere. Elphir and Erchirion laughed hysterically.  
  
Boromir continued his sputtering for a moment before grinning broadly, undaunted. His eyes turned to the beach where Faramir stood smiling, yet frozen still, and his mother balanced, patiently poised behind him. He stood, made his way out of the rushing water and trudged up the beach to his brother, clothes sopping and slapping against the sand. Quietly, he stretched out his soggy hand, sensing Faramir's apprehension. He smiled nervously as he took Boromir's waiting grasp.  
  
His worry soon vanished, though, when Boromir winked boldly and proceeded to lead him on again, this time taking care not to push his brother too fast. But it was Faramir who now grew impatient. Soon he let go of Boromir's hand, and giggling as only a small child can, raced ahead.  
Boromir quirked an eyebrow at this sudden spurt of courage, and then laughed as Faramir flew into the waves, running full speed. With all haste, Boromir joined his brother and cousins in the water again.  
  
The sun shone. The birds sang. The breeze softly came and went, and all was shining and all was perfectly, wonderfully, glorious.  
  
====  
  
Boromir had been riding in silence the entire way back to Minas Tirith. At least it seemed that way to Faramir. He was sure that he'd tried to start a conversation with him once or twice and he knew his brother wasn't so rude as to ignore him completely, but any words he had in fact spoken had been brief, soft, and revealed his desire for quiet. He was pondering, and wanted to do so in silence.  
  
Silence: Boromir's new favorite tone and though his father excused it and had nothing against the matter, Faramir couldn't see how it helped anything. He would be glad when they reached their destination and sound would greet them once more. But then again, he mused, would they be the sounds he wanted to hear? Things went worse in Gondor with each day that passed: Darkness it seemed was only growing.   
  
As if to add credence to the pervading gloom, the clouds were growing darker and it looked as if rain would fall. That was the last thing he needed today. Today he wished for the sun, for its gentle lightening of his spirits, as he had so many years ago when his heart weighed heavy as his heart did now.  
  
On that day he'd needed the sun, bright and shining, smiling down upon him, sending its golden caresses. But the sun had been silent, letting thunder speak for it instead, and the clouds had grown and boiled above his head, pouring down a gentle rain that soaked through him, chilling him and frightening him all the more. He shivered involuntarily at the memory.  
  
The waves had been crashing and he'd been aching for his mother. They'd gone to Dol Amroth with mother one last time, to see the sea she and father had said. And Faramir remembered trying to believe them. But Mother's eyes were still wet and Father's face was still sadder and graver and he knew that she was still sick and they never went to Amroth so early in the year. He remembered being confused and for the first time he could remember, Boromir wasn't ready to explain. The only counsel he'd offered on the subject was to say, rather sourly, that it had a lot to do with pain. Faramir didn't understand and couldn't imagine either of his parent's doing anything to hurt him.   
  
Boromir had been silent on that journey too, staring out the window, offering no commentary on Lamedon or Lebennin as they passed between them, no remarks on the scenery or attempts to 'educate' his little brother, as he always claimed he strived to do. Funny how his comments could be so trying when present and yet so missed when absent.

Mother's arm had been wrapped about his brother's shoulders, Faramir had been curled up on her lap and she'd been resting her head on Father's shoulder. If mother's tears and father's watery eyes weren't enough evidence that something was wrong, Boromir's silence spoke loud enough. But no one was interested in discussing it.  
  
When the ride was finished, relatives were embraced just a little too tight, bags unpacked, clothes changed, dinner eaten with to many long stretches of silence, and then baths drawn. But Boromir didn't whine about the bath this time, so neither did Faramir, puzzled still at his brother's silence yet, by this time, hardly surprised by it.  
  
It was just barely early spring, and Faramir remembered being cold and shivering. He'd climbed up in his mother's lap, Boromir playing on the floor at their feet, Denethor in the chair beside them. The time for bed came and went and he didn't want to leave, so his mother had held him instead, and he remembered that Boromir had stayed, too. But little eyes had soon begun to droop no matter how hard they were fought against.  
  
So, they had all moved to the bed, Finduilas resting against Denethor, Boromir on his father's lap, and Faramir still curled up in his mother's arms, Denethor reaching desperately, trying to embrace them all, trying to stretch his arms that he might hold them all together. Finduilas sang soft lullabies in the moonlight—he could still hear her soft voice—and when they thought their sons were sleeping, the tears fell again. Faramir tucked himself in deeper, frightened even more now and still chilled.   
  
Morning came and his mother was too sick to get out of bed, and Boromir had hidden himself away after breakfast. Father hardly moved from her side, and Faramir wanted to let her sleep, so he stayed away from her lap and played on the end of the bed. It didn't take long though before he felt cold again, and when he looked at his father he couldn't help but tentatively crawl towards him. He looked so sad, and Faramir wanted to help him. He climbed precociously into his lap as only a four-year old can. Denethor sat up a bit, his surprise quickly replaced by affection, and in the waning afternoon hours, he rocked him to sleep as Finduilas slept on.  
  
The next afternoon Mother had wanted to go down to the shore. Father had supported her, helping her walk the distance, Boromir ahead, dragging his feet a little, head hanging, lips drawn in a line, still silent, with Faramir, stepping to keep up with his brother. Mother's face a brightened so at the sight of the shining sea. Father held her tight. Faramir wondered if she was getting better.  
  
The next day he'd gone to the water alone. The day when it was raining and the waves crashed louder than he'd heard them crash before, the day he was aching for his mother.  
  
He had his feet planted solidly in the ground and he felt so small in the enormity of the aching within him. He'd never felt anything like it. Boromir had been right. His brother had never seemed to be fazed by anything. Not the Anduin, not bullies, not huge dogs, not even the great crashing waves of the ocean; but, in those first few moments of terrifying truth, tears had fallen from his brother's eyes, too, and Faramir had felt frozen, overwhelmed.  
  
He was still frozen, chilled, uncomprehending, and he couldn't envision himself ever moving forward in such a vast and unknown land as this. Nothing came close to this ocean of sorrow. Even the sea didn't look as big as the grief he felt now.  
  
Pain and fear coursed through him, mixing together bitterly in his veins, and he couldn't help but flinch at a sudden hand on his shoulder. His head turned around quickly to see that his father was there crouching down just behind him, his eyes watery and shining.  
  
"Faramir," he said softly, and then paused for a moment, his grief all too vivid and tangible in his voice as he continued. "What are you doing out here alone? And in the rain?" Faramir made no reply. He wanted to answer his father, but he couldn't.   
  
"It hurts, doesn't it?" Denethor supplied for him and he almost choked on the words.  
  
Faramir nodded vigorously, drawing a pained smile from his father, whose tears began to leak from the corners of his eyes. Denethor sighed as the tears traced their way down his face. The silence stretched and taking note of his son's quiet quivering he folded him into a firm embrace. Faramir buried his face in his father's neck and sobbed.  
  
Slowly, Denethor stood, tears still falling, Faramir still clinging to his neck, his arms still wrapped firmly about his son. "I'm sorry," he whispered into his tangled tresses. "I...I'm so sorry, Faramir…." words failed him as he stared out into the sea.   
  
"It's…it's…it's not…your…your fault, Da…Daddy," Faramir wailed between his tears.   
  
Denethor could make no reply. The waves crashed heavily, dragging the sands in and out of the ocean's depths. "I love you, Faramir" he breathed into his son's hair. "I love you."  
  
"I…I…I love you…you…to…too," Faramir stuttered, inhaling laboriously in a vain attempt to stop his cries. He reached up to dry his eyes, but his father's hand got there first. He gently brushed Faramir's tears away and endeavored to forestall his own. He smiled weakly. There were no words for this. No words could be found to express this ache, this wound, this throbbing pain.  
  
Silence, save for the crying gulls and pounding waves, and the grieved beating of his own heart, ringing sullenly in his ears.  
  
Denethor turned his eyes from the waters and, sighing, he turned around, trying to find some worthy distraction. "Let's go find your brother," he supplied, knowing Faramir hadn't seen him since he'd hidden himself away again. Faramir nodded distractedly, staring out at the view over his father's shoulder.  
  
The waves thundered and towered up higher and higher. The rain drizzled down upon them, chilling them. But behind the dreadful clouds, the sun shone. And though the weather was horrid, he could still hear the faint calling of the gulls. The breeze softly came and went, and all was drenched to the core and all was achingly, deafeningly silent.  
  
"Faramir!" Faramir suddenly jerked back causing his horse to whinny and drawing a laugh from the party to his left. He turned to see his brother's laughing face looking pointedly at him.   
  
"Careful," Boromir began with a smirk, stilling his laughter. "where you're steering that thing, halfling." Faramir rolled his eyes, slightly annoyed that his brother had chosen that exact moment to snap out of his silent reverie and yet also slightly glad that Boromir had.  
  
"I mean, you've almost run into a tree several times now. You're quite lucky you're still alive," Boromir continued taunting playfully as only an older brother can. "What exactly are you thinking about? No, wait don't tell me! You've stumbled across the missing half of your mind?"  
  
Faramir wished they weren't on horses so that he could reach out and knock his brother in the head for that one. Not even five minutes of Boromir's recidival loquaciousness had passed before Faramir couldn't at all recall why he'd ever complained about Boromir being quiet.  
  
They crested the final hill, and there was Osgiliath to the left, dull stone painted darkly against the river and the jagged heights behind the city. There was the Pelennor sprawled out before them, a carpet of green, speckled with wild flowers and laced through by the mighty Anduin. And there before them: Minas Tirith, white stone glinting bravely amid the afternoon sunlight, from the entrance of the city to the topmost pinnacle of the White Tower, lancing upward through the sky:  Home.  
  
"Race you to the tower, brat…"  
  
"Hope you ride faster than you can think up good insults!" Faramir shouted behind him as he took off before Boromir could react.  
  
"That is completely unfair!" Boromir yelled, bidding his horse to speed up.  
  
"Do you ever stop whining?" Faramir shot back.  
  
"Do you ever stop whining?" Boromir mimicked, pitching his voice unnaturally high. Faramir only laughed.  
  
And so they raced on.  
  
The sun shone. The pounding rhythm of the horses' feet drowned out all sounds but their congenial taunts and barbs. The wind whipped their hair back. All was hoof beats and speed and competition and brotherly affection. The sun found a break in the dour clouds and for a little while at least, all was shining once more, and all was perfectly, wonderfully, glorious.


End file.
